Cuisine

TL;DR

No-frills airport hangar for meat

The vibe

The crowd

The food

The service

Our Review

What's the scoop with this place?This is a no-frills airport hangar for meat that barely has windows. Fires burn while staff shift embers, moving whole, slowly charring carcasses of pork and beef attached to iron cross spits or atop vast grills. This is the out-of-town place to come for a protein-heavy Sunday lunch; a place where Fred Flintstone would fit in perfectly to grab a giant hunk of meat on the bone and chow it down.

What's the crowd like?Families and friends who've been saving up their calories fill this joint from midday on weekends, where they order everything—and spend four hours eating it. This is the social event—and eating event—of the week, and they don't care that they're tucked into the hardest wooden benches in the world.

What should we be drinking?Serious drinkers will consider the drinks list to be an afterthought, but the truth is, the local diners who frequent this steakhouse behemoth don't care. They're happy washing it all down with a liter bottle of Quilmes lager or a bottle of cheap red wine. Drinks here are to sate thirst rather than enhance a meal. Soften the blow by ordering a sifón, or soda water syphon, and add that to your vino: it's acceptable here, and will greatly improve it.

Main event: the food. Give us the lowdown—especially what not to miss.Wooden platters weighed down with kilos of beef and meaty juices sliding around land at your table. Sides may or may not follow suit. No matter: this is a legit steak dining experience: rustic, a taste of the countryside, as authentic an experience you can get as if these people were your friends. Go wild and order sweetbreads or blood sausage. Then get lamb, pork, beef—whatever you can fit in. Los Talas is all about excess and servings are XL. Bring Tupperware.

And how did the front-of-house folks treat you?Attending to hundreds of ravenous carnivores is hard, if not dangerous, work. Regardless, staff are polite if hurried, though sides might arrive some time after the main. You shouldn't wear your finery here, for fear of spills.

Who should come here?Tables can fit ten a piece, so show up—early—with the whole gang, or be prepared to share the space, communal-style, with other hungry hippos. This is a cheap and cheerful, fight-your-buddy-for-the-last-rib kind of joint, where you can have a raucous time doing so.